Forget Me Not
by princesshyuuga01
Summary: After a horrendous car crash wipes the last ten years of Deidara's life from his memory, he struggles to grasp the reality of being married to a woman who was by no means his type and with whom he shares two children. Can their flame be rekindled or will his amnesia and teen infatuation with another woman extinguish it once and for all? [Indefinite Hiatus]
1. Oblivion

**Forget Me Not**

**Chapter One – Oblivion**

**A/N: With all my ongoing stories I probably should not be uploading another one, but this idea has been nagging me for a while and I've always wanted to incorporate it somehow in one of my other fics but bleh! I'm new to this pair but damn it, I am in love with their dynamic.**

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**He ****who**** forgets ****himself in love, remembers the future**

– **Charles**** d****e**** Leusse**

Even before Deidara opened his eyes, he knew he was in hospital. At the blurred edges of his awareness he vaguely registered the sound of heels clicking against the tiles, the swish of curtains, hushed murmurs and of course the god awful stench of blood and antiseptic. But amidst it all was the faint smell of something uniquely feminine.

He half opened his eyes. The light blindingly bright, making his pupils contract painfully. He had to squeeze them shut for a moment, blinking repeatedly. He caught a flash of pink and he narrowed his wincing gaze to the nurse standing at the end of the bed with a chart in her hands.

He lifted himself upright in the bed instantly, "What the hell am I doing in here?"

The woman clipped the folder on the end of the bed before coming to lay a gentle hand on his shoulders, easing him back down. He flinched beneath her touch, "Calm down sir. You're in the hospital—"

"No shit. Well aren't we observant?" he grumbled sarcastically.

"—you were in a car accident two weeks ago and have been in a coma since then," her emerald gaze fell on his face and a tender smile graced her lips. "I'm sure your wife will be relieved. She hasn't been sleeping you know and it's no good for the baby."

Deidara felt his heart skipped a couple beats and not in the least bit pleasantly. He frowned and then wished he hadn't as it made his head ache unbearably. He put a hand up to his forehead, his fingers encountering a thickly wadded bandage positioned there.

He discredited everything else she said, only two things resonated in his head.

Car accident?

Coma?

He felt like he was trying to find his way out a complicated maze without his sight. What accident was she talking about? He looked down at his sheet and hospital blanket-covered body. Though he felt sore all over, he seemed pretty much in one's piece.

There was no plaster cast on any of his limbs, so he obviously hadn't broken any bones. The only indication that he had suffered any form of trauma was probably the throbbing in his head. But that could also be credited to his frustration with the nurse and her attempt at good morning jokes. Still he made notice of the IV leading from a vein in his hand where it was laying on the top of the bed.

But nothing seemed to add up.

He stared at the nurse, his heart still thrashing unsteadily, his stomach rolling over, "Listen here little lady, I don't know what kind of game we're playing here, but it's over," he growled, clamping his free hand around her wrist like a steel vice.

For a second or two she looked a little thrown, but managed to effortlessly twist free. His grip was anything other than iron, in fact the little blood in his knuckles drained away in all his effort to hold onto her.

"Maybe I should have the doctor talk to you about this," she suggested, glancing over her shoulders expectantly, perhaps in search of support.

Wife?

Baby?

Those words were just as familiar to him as a sandstorm was to the North Pole. Was this some sort of sick joke? He wasn't even dating; heck he was still in high school! His father would have his head on a silver platter if he ever knocked up a girl. She must have mistaken.

"I see you're finally awake," A talk busty woman, equally a blonde as he was swished the curtains around his bed closed. "You were always the one to give us the nastiest scares."

He recognized that voice anywhere.

"Nana?" he glanced up at her through his still blurry eyes, thinking that she looked a little older than the last time he saw her. Which was…he couldn't remember. "What is going on? Why am I here? What is this non-sense talk of a baby?" the nurse forced him to lie back down once more and he scowled at her.

Tsunade gave her grandson a reassuring smile, "You've suffered head injury child," she sighed. "We'll have to conduct further test because clearly you've suffered some memory loss."

Deidara put his hand of his head again, "Don't be ridiculous, I don't have amnesia. I remember who you are."

She rolled her eyes, "Do you even know what year we're in?"

He thought for a moment but knew he was only guessing. When he told her she laughed and corrected him. He blinked in horror, "Are you shitting me nana?"

A stern look washed across the woman's face, under different circumstances she would have wacked him across the head. But maybe a slap was exactly what he needed. "No, I am not shitting you Deidara," she said with a straight face, her tone flat though emphasis had been placed on the word _shitting._

He drew an uneven breath, "That's ten years more than it had been yesterday."

Tsunade placed her hand over his where it was lying on the bed clutching the sheet in his finger. "Take it easy," she said soothingly. "I know this is a little confusing and frightening. But in time you'll come to remember everything. It just takes time."

He yanked his hand out from under hers, examining it like it was foreign to his anatomy. His mouth fell open so wide at the sight of the golden band that it almost fell to his chest. His heart exploded like field mines being set off and he released a horrified shriek.

His stomach gave a funny little quiver and it had nothing to do with hunger.

Think. Think. Think.

He scrunched his eyes closed and forced himself to concentrate but his head pounded sickeningly as he tried to recall the last few days. It was all a blur, a foggy indistinct blur that made little, if any, sense.

When Deidara opened his eyes Tsunade had already moved through a gap in the curtains and a short time later they twitched aside again, the rattle of the rings holding the curtain on the rail sounding too loud inside his head.

"Dei-dei!" he heard the sound of little feet scampering across the ground, and then something landed heavily on his chest.

He yelped, glaring at the creature before him. It was a little girl of no more than four or so years. She had the most beautiful head of chestnut curls he had ever seen and matching brown eyes that rivaled dark chocolate.

She landed a sloppy little kiss on his nose and giggled.

"Nana told me you were awake!" she said in a high pitched voice that grated on his nerves until he squirmed. "Come Daisuke, Dei-dei is awake!" she yelled over her shoulders.

He fought with the urge to push the brat off him. He hated children and this one was nothing short of annoying, with her pouty pink lips and big, pretty eyes. And damn it, did she have to be sound loud? If this alleged accident wasn't causing his headache, then the piercing shrill of her voice certainly would have initiated one.

"Silly girl get off him," a voice snapped.

He felt his spine prickle when he came face to face with a boy the splitting image of himself. If he didn't know any better he would have thought that a younger version of himself had stepped out of his photo album. Blonde hair, blue eyes, even the bang—it was uncanny. Either his father had been a very busy man or Deidara was hallucinating. He decided it had to be the latter and wondered which shameless young hussy these kids belonged to for his father was an old man.

"Don't be so bossy, Nana said I could greet him," the girl rolled her eyes at the boy who in turn stuffed his hand in his pockets and scowled.

"Nana said greet him Harumi, not kill him you idiot!" he pointed out almost matter-of-factly.

"I'm telling kaa-san that you're calling me names again!" she fumed, slamming her fist into Deidara's chest in an outrage.

It knocked a good amount of air from his lungs.

He cleared his throat, his fingers beginning to pluck at the hem of the sheet in an effort not to strangle the little twit. "Get off me!" he breathed icily.

The child gave a little shiver, her velvety brown eyes losing the excitement that had lingered earlier. She scurried to her feet immediately, hiding behind the boy who sent Deidara a chilling glare. He opened his mouth to say something but he was beaten him to it.

"You were never a morning person," Inoichi said picking up the petrified young girl who buried her face in his neck, wetting his neck with her tears.

Deidara twisted his head to meet his father's gaze. "I thought Ino was the last brat."

"She was. These brats are yours," the man told him pointedly

"Mine?" he spat, almost laughing at his father's statement. "Are you going senile old man?"

Inoichi shook his blonde head in response as the children exchanged horrified looks. How could he not recognize them?

"You know I hate kids. Ino was always such a little shit back—" he paused in midsentence as a thought stuck him; he glowered looking fiercely around the room. "You can come out now little sister, I get the joke and it isn't funny."

They all just stared at him like he had suddenly sprouted another head.

"Is he really awake?" came a soft, feminine voice slithering across the room. Deidara felt the skin on his back tingle all over again at the sound of her voice.

"And just exactly who the hell are you?" he demanded, thoroughly exasperated by the presence of so many strangers when he wasn't particularly looking his best. He was going to have Ino's head if this was her idea of an April fool's joke. But he couldn't quite dispel the feeling that it was rather too chilly to be April.

She came to the side of his bed in a couple of not-so-steady strides, her presence a little unnerving as she stood within touching distance, looking down at him. "I'm your wife."

He had no hope of disguising his shock. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to get his voice to work. His brain was flying off in all directions, confused, frightened, lost. How could this be? How could this woman be his wife?

He hadn't realized how suiting the thought of her voice as slithering was, until he caught sight of the woman, and the smile she sent him wrapped itself around his lungs, stalling his breath. For a moment or two he just stared at her lips, they had a sensual fullness about them—that he struggled to identify with. He sent the tip of his tongue out to the roof of his lips. Had he kissed that mouth before? If so, why couldn't he remember it?

There was nothing remotely very familiar about her. He studied her face for endless seconds, his confused mind struggling to place her. He didn't recognize any one of her fragile features. Not her perfectly tanned skin, her neat eyebrows that arched above stunning amber flecked eyes or that silky length of auburn hair. He neither recognized her rounded figure nor delicate hand poised on her swollen abdomen.

He glanced at her slender fingers, her nails were well manicured, donning French tips and cut low. He caught sight of the platinum band around her finger along with square-shaped diamond halo ring in fourteen carat white gold. That shit looked expensive; certainly his allowance alone couldn't have covered a quarter of what it must have cost.

It was ridiculous to be married at seventeen. He must have died and went to hell.

His eyes slowly moved up to the bump before her. His chest tightened and his breathing halted.

Either she was fat or had a massive tumor, he thought reassuringly to himself.

Or she was pregnant, a voice taunted.

He moistened his choppy lips again, trying to find a way out of the confusing labyrinthine maze of his mind. "How can you be my wife, I don't even know your name."

"It's Tenten."

He gaped. "That's an actual name?"

She gave him the evil eye.

He put his hand to his aching eyes, pressing his fingers to the corners of his eyes. "It doesn't ring a bell."

Something like disappointment flashed in her eyes but she managed a firm gaze, "Tsunade said it wouldn't," Tenten touched him then. Her hand coming down over his like his Nana's had, but her touch was warmer, in fact it came with a blistering heat that scoured his skin as she pinned it beneath her own. "None of it will make sense at—"

He flinched, his eyebrows twitching uncontrollably at his reaction to her. "Like hell it doesn't make any sense. I only go for red-heads and blondes!" he added, "With stick figures…"

She withdrew her hand almost instantly, only for it to connect with the side of his jaw. There was a tiny flicker of nerves pulsating by the side of her mouth. "Don't even go there," she warned in a low, grating voice.

Deidara turned his head to the side, placing his palm on the throbbing place that her dainty little hand had just struck. He was absolutely seething with annoyance and fury. How dare she raise her hand at him?

"Listen here little hussy, violence is not going to magically make me remember some brown cow and two little shits that I've never seen before?!" He growled, blue eyes darting angrily over at the brunette. "So if that's your solution then you're wasting your time, chubs."

She just stared at him, lips parted, evidently dumbfounded.

* * *

**A/N: Yes Deidara thinks he's 17 regardless of the fact that he's ten years older. The accident erased the last ten years of his life so he has no recollection of it. And yes, the coma lasted two weeks. Just clearing that bit up.**

**What are your thoughts? Please review to let me know if I should continue or pull the plugs on this story. I don't hesitate when it comes to calling something quits. I am certified quitter. So review to let me know.**


	2. The Unwelcoming

**Forget Me Not**

**Chapter Two ****— The Unwelcoming**

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**I'll name my town "Unwelcome," and the sign will say, "Welcome to Unwelcome."**

**\- Jarod Kintz**

The poor amnesiac felt a hand grab at his insides and twisted it cruelly as the implications of the printed text finally began to soak in his cerebrum. His heart gave a lurch against his chest at the thought that his own grandmother would do something as cruel as to release him in the custody of that she-devil.

He scratched the top of his head in perplexity, "So if I sign these, you'll be handing me over to that…" Deidara struggled to find words to describe her, words that wouldn't end with his cheekbones being assaulted yet again.

And judging from the look that Tsunade sent him, it could be a definite possibility.

"…to that woman?" he inquired, quirking a light brow and looking over the clipboard at Tsunade, who stood very ominously by his bedside with arms crossed over her bust.

His doctors had declared his physical self to be in fine shape and hence there was no reason to keep him cooped up anymore. But as much as he hated hospitals, he just could not accept being discharged without having remembered a single detail about the alleged last ten years of his life.

The lady heaved a frustrated sigh, "Yes Deidara, and that woman is your wife, like it or not. Perhaps if you spend a little time in your home with her and your kids you'll start to remember a few things," she said shaking her blonde head to and fro. It was hard to resist the urge to roll her eyes, not when the boy was being so damn uncooperative.

It was bound to be a long recovery, and she was beginning to feel rather sorry for her grand-daughter-in-law.

"Why can't I stay with dad?" he whined childishly, even had the nerve to pout and drop the clipboard as though he were ready to throw a tantrum. He sent her a pitiful yet annoyed look and folded his arms. "I want to stay with dad!"

He refused to go home to a house full of unknown rug rats and a fat woman with a temper. What was Nana thinking, sending him into uncharted territory like that?

"You have your own home and your own family, impose on them. Your father kicked you out a long time ago." She straightened herself, saying with assuring authority, "Besides, it would be counterproductive to have you living under Inoichi's roof."

"Why the hell is that?" he couldn't care less.

"We don't want you being stuck in the past," she explained. "Now sign the damn papers and stop being difficult. Everything with be fine, I promise," she took a steadying breath.

He was getting under her skin, much like he did…back when he was actually seventeen. She only hoped that he would be wiser with his choice of vocabulary around his wife. She was a no nonsense kind of woman. Tsunade had seen her knock Deidara around enough to know that his condition would do very little to dissuade her from physically keeping him in line.

"Tenten will be here any minute to pick you up," she warned, watching his reaction through the slits of her eyes. His face went florid with anger and something else that she could not place.

His own eyes narrowed in irritation and he scowled, "I still can't get over how fucking ridiculous that name sounds. Her mother must have been high off shit when she named her."

"You've always liked her name," she reminded him, then added solemnly. "You loved her even more."

For a fleeting second he struggled to contain his composure, his fingers now clutching at the sheet of the bed either side of his body as if to anchor himself, "Love her?" he choked. "Just look at her granny, she's hardly my type."

When he met Tsunade's gaze again, her eyes were like glittering diamonds: hard and impenetrable. "What exactly is your type Deidara?" she asked tersely. "Unnatural hair colour, face piercings, tattoos and cheap mascara?"

He was quiet for a moment, his spirits instantly lifting as the memories flooded back. At least he hadn't lost too much of his past, he thought in cautious relief. "What ever happened to—?"

She held up a silencing hand, cutting him off. One of her shoulders rose and fell in a dismissive shrug that Deidara somehow felt wasn't quite representative of how she felt about the subject being brought up. "You really ought to be getting ready."

"But Nana…" he complained.

"You're not some teenager Deidara, I know the concept is hard to grasp at the moment but you will just have to deal with it," she told him sternly. "Forgetting the last ten years of your life must be frustrating but you're lucky to remember at least seventeen years, some people forget themselves completely."

"I just can't wrap my mind around it, yesterday I was seventeen, and today I'm twenty-seven. And you say I was in a coma for how long?"

"Two weeks."

He gave his head a little shake but it felt as if a jar of marbles had spilled inside. He groaned and put his free hand to his temple, confusion, despair, grief and disbelief all jostling for position. "Either my math is way off or you're fucking with me."

Tsunade growled, "Watch your tongue boy!"

"According to you I'm not a teenager anymore, therefore any and every word is at my disposal," he informed her smugly, the notion pleased him. He had quite a mouth full that he would like to tell her.

The silence stretched.

Finally her lips stretched into a brief on-off smile that didn't involve her eyes. "That doesn't give you the right to swear at me. Now off with you," she ushered him into the bathroom after he reluctantly signed the papers and leapt out of the bed, fetching the clothes she had laid out for him.

* * *

When he emerged from the bathroom freshly showered and clothed, he stumbled across what he deemed the not-so-pleasing figure of the creature he was to call his wife. If possible she took a size larger than she had yesterday. She was dressed in a summery creation the colour of bananas and embroidered with fine, clear beads that gave an added shimmer. The dress had a deep halter neckline and a fitted top that showed off her ample cleavage, and the full skirt swirled around her legs.

Couldn't someone have told her that yellow wasn't her colour? She looked like the fucking magic school bus in that thing!

She sat on the chair propped beside his bed with the small brat from yesterday in her lap. It was a wonder how there was even space for the kid to sit, seeing as though her stomach was the size of a truck tire.

For a moment he just stood there, drinking in the sight before him and choking all at the same time. He felt the cacophonous boom of his heart again. It felt as if his chest wall was going to blow open with the sheer force of it again as he watched them—watched her. Why couldn't he remember her?

Long, chestnut-brown hair framed the delicate planes of her jaw. Dark brows slanted over quizzical brown eyes brightened with flecks of gold, like pinpoints of sunlight. Her lips curved in an amused, yet gentle smile that annoyed him to no ends. The young girl lay cradled in the crook of her arm, her eyes half-closed, giggling loudly as Tenten tickled her tummy.

They could be twins, born in different generations, he thought to himself. But then snapped his mouth shut when he realized he must've been staring at the two like a besotted fool.

"I was beginning to think that you wouldn't show chubs," he said haughtily, making his presence felt.

Her smile disappeared, and the light in her eyes dimmed. He could tell that she was trying her very best to be polite to him. "I had to pick up our daughter from daycare," her fist balled up at her sides.

He grimaced at her choice of pronoun. _Our._ "Well where is the little sucker?" he asked, looking about the room aimlessly.

Tenten sent him a death glare.

"Here I am Dei-dei!" The little girl squealed in delight, clearly thinking it was a game.

He chuckled, "I almost missed you there, underneath that huge boulder thing," he pointed at Tenten's stomach.

If looks could kill. He would had died a long and tortorous death from the cold once over she gave him.

"That's not a boulder silly," the girl giggled. "Its Tendeira."

He couldn't stop himself, "What the fuck is a Tendeira?" if he drew his brows together anymore he swore they would permanently merge into a unibrow. "Is that a new breed of spider?"

Tenten fumed silently, she would not lose her cool. He still thinks he's a teenager, she reminded herself. The man she married would never have shown such apathy to their unborn child, especially considering that he had given it that ridiculous nickname to begin with.

"Kaa-san why is tou-san being so strange. Does he weelly not rememwer anything?" Harumi looked up at her mother with large and uncertain brown eyes.

For a moment Tenten was at a loss for words, mostly because Deidara had just thrown the f-bomb in front of Harumi, and his attitude was completely unlike the man that his daughter was accustomed to. How was she to respond to such an innocent yet heart-felt question?

Deidara did not recall a single thing and was not too keen on remembering the life he clearly resented either. He had made that painfully clear. Tenten could only hope that once he arrived home his attitude would change and some of the familiarities of the life they had built together would spark up some of those smothered memories in that thick skull of his.

"He'll remember soon enough, Harumi." She smiled softly and patted the girl on the head before setting her down and getting to her feet. "Let's get Tou-San home, huh?" She asked in a light tone, hoping it would ease her child's mind a bit.

Seemingly it did, for Harumi shrugged her tiny shoulders and rushed to Deidara, grabbing his hand as she normally would when they took strolls together. She loved her father so much it amounted to an obssession. In fact, Deidara himself was known for spoiling his little princess who had him wrapped around her pinkie finger, for the most part.

Certainly such was not the case anymore, every time he looked at the child it was like he was mentally beheading the poor girl.

A scowl found it's way upon Deidara's face as he felt her small palm wrap around his index finger and she began tugging him enthusiastically towards the exit with Tenten following close behind.

The pink haired nurse from yesterday caught a glimpse at the trio and waved, touching her colleague so she could take watch his comedic departure.

"How cute," her companion mouthed.

His eyebrow twitched and he yanked his hand away from Harumi's like something had pricked him. "Cut that out, you little twerp." He hissed through gritted teeth.

She looked up at her tou-san in shock and despair. Clearly he was different, and she realized that now more than ever. All her efforts to be warm and friendly had been in vain. He was even meaner than nii-san.

She only wanted to help him, Nana had said that he was feeling terribly helpless and alone without his memory and she was just trying to make her daddy feel like he belonged. The same as he had always done for her.

But it was clear that he didn't want her help. He didn't even want her around, she thought, frowning deeply, then turned on her heel and rushed to her mother as she desperately fought with the urge to cry.

Her lower lip quivered and her arms were outstretched vertically toward the brunette woman that she resembled so much. "Kaa-san, deidei doesn't love me, anymore."

Tenten shot Deidara an icy glare and scooped the child up the best she could given her massive gut and rested her on her hip comfortably as she approached the blonde man. Harumi nuzzled her face into her mother's shoulder, her own shoulders shaking between sorrowful sobs.

"I know you don't remember any of this yet, Deidara," Tenten started in a low, hushed voice with a stern and rather peeved look upon her face, her earthly eyes piercing his. "But these kids don't deserve to be treated like this. Get your act together!" She scolded quietly, the child still sobbing. "...before I have to do it for you," she added menacingly.

Deidara's jaws clenched tightly, his lips forming a thin grim line and his fists curled together tightly at his sides. He really wished she would stop talking to him in that patronizing tone. Just who the hell did she think she was? Scolding him like that?

He was a grown man and he could do and say what he pleased. What did the woman expect? He didn't know them, he certainly wasn't about to act like it. That brat was not his child, he did not produce fucking cry babies.

He hadn't know them for a day yet and they were already starting to get wedged under his skin. He wondered if agreeing to go home with them had been a good idea, the doctor hadn't prescribed any anti-psychotics and he just knew they would come in handy whilst he stayed with them.

Surprisingly, he suppressed the urge to reciprocate with a snide and witty remark. Mainly because she had already stalked off down the hall and was heading towards the exit with Harumi still crying in her arms.

Pathetic, he tsked.

He watched her walk for a moment, a little irritated at the fact that it was more of a waddle than a walk. It seemed as though she would burst at any moment, prick her stomach with a pin and she probably would. It was just plain disgusting, he grimaced to himself, rolling his eyes before he followed her out of the building.

When the bright sunlight hit his skin, he felt a warm sensation begin to tingle his arms and face, and his light eyes had difficulty adjusting at first. The fluorescent lights in the hospital hadn't been so harsh, however his lungs was thankful for the fresh air, it had been stifling far too long under the stench of sickness and death. He hadn't realized just how much he wanted out of that place until he stepped outside.

But for the first time in his life freedom held more defeat than triumph for him. All because of that witch and her little minions.

He followed her through the parking lot, watching her adjust the child in her arms to find a more comfortable position. There was nothing more unattractive than this, a plain jane who obviously hadn't the luxury of a mirror this morning, her stomach protruding out like a melon had been stuffed under her dress holding a child whilst searching for a vehicle he assumed would be some type of minivan.

And he was right.

No surprise there, he acknowleged to himself as they walked up to a silver minivan Colette with family stickers on the back window and car seats in the back. "Good God, what an ugly piece of Sh-"

"Would you refrain from swearing in front of our daughter?" Tenten asked, something fiery blazing in her eyes. It was the only thing on her face that he could see because the child's head was blocking the rest of her visage. "Please," she plead, pulling her car keys from a black purse that had been swung sloppily over her opposite shoulder.

With the press of a button, the passengers side back door slid open, and the woman hoisted the child up and into the seat. Deidara watched in awe as she managed to bend and maneuver her body enough to get the kid into the seat and fasten all the straps in order to secure it.

Tenten then placed a soft kiss on Harumi's forehead and looked at Deidara with a bland expression on her face. "Get in, we're ready to go."

* * *

The drive through town was a bit strange for Deidara, he noticed several buildings in Konoha he had sworn he had never seen before in his life. He made note of which ones were new, and Tenten informed him of how many years they had been in establishment. He was more than annoyed and only slightly baffled as he crossed his arms and leaned back into he seat, eyes glued on the scenery that was passing him by.

It was a surreal feeling for him, being in a town that had obviously grown in the two weeks he had been out. Perhaps his Nana had been playing some joke, or trying to make him feel better. Certainly he'd been out for ten years, why else wouldn't he have remembered any of this? The growth of the town, the fact that he had married such a unexceptional woman, and had two little twits with said unexceptional woman. And had another little shit on the way. This was ridiculous, it had to be a ploy.

But he was snapped from his thoughts when he felt the hideous vehicle slow down as it rounded a corner and entered into a relatively nice neighborhood. The houses seemed to be well built and most likely middle class, they were not bad. Whatever he allegedly did for a living must've made some decent money.

The car soon pulled into the driveway of a light yellow house with dark brown trim and shingles, it had a garage and a nice green front lawn and a white picket fence that lined the yard. Oh the white picket fence, he mused unpleasantly, miserable wife—check, unwanted kids—check, crap wagon—check, cue the way-too-many fucking pets and it'd be the perfect cliche.

What ever happened to his supermodel wife and sporty collection of expensive cars?

He continued to broodingly take in his surroundings.

A large weeping willow tree grew in the center of the yard, shading a good portion of it with it's large and lengthy branches. There was what looked to Deidara like a large garden in front of the house, but he couldn't match names to the plants that were growing there.

From the driveway, there was a stepping-stone pathway through the grass up to the front steps of the porch to the front door.

All of this unfamiliar to the blonde. He'd never laid eyes on this place once in his life, unless perhaps he and his buddies came one night to sling toilet paper along the tree, yard and fence. Which was more than plausible. No doubt it was something Hidan would have suggested. _Speaking of which, maybe I'll give that guy a call... _He thought to himself as he exited the vehicle and slammed the door closed.

This caused poor Harumi to be jolted abruptly from the sleep she had drifted into the moment she was placed in the comfort of her car seat.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked around frantically and was instantly calmed when the door opened and her kaa-san was right there, scooping her up from the seat before joining the bewildered man who stood in the grass looking at the house with his hands on his hips.

"Brings back any memories, Deidara?" Tenten asked curiously as she wached her husband from the corner of her eyes.

She could tell by the look upon his face that it hadn't rung any bells, he still seemed baffled and empty. One thing was for certain, there was no trace of the man she had married eight years ago in this...boy.

He wasn't passionate about anything. Not even life itself, it would appear. He no longer wore that look in his eyes—the one he wore everyday since he first took off to that art supply house for a few extra things he needed for a piece he had been diligently working on.

Tenten didn't know that _**that **_man whom she had adored would have gotten into a life-threatening accident leaving him with amnesia, forcing her to bring a complete stranger into their home.

Her heart was a little heavy at the thought, but it certainly didn't mean that she would lose hope. She had stayed up last night researching these types of incidents. Only in rare cases did the patient never regain their memories, she hoped to goodness Deidara would not be one of those rare cases.

But there was no way of knowing for sure. She just needed to give it time, and hope her patience would not wear thin.

"Why don't we go inside?" She offered softly, giving him a slight smile and a gentle gleam in her chocolate eyes.

Deidara shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, "Why not? I'm starving," he yawned loudly. "And I hope for fuck's sake that you cook a lot better than you dress, chubs."

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**A/N: Shout out to my collaborator Tifa-Lockhart-Scarlet, this wouldn't have been possible without you! And lots of love to the readers, reviewers and followers, the drive just wouldn't have been there without your support.**

**Please do leave a review to let us know how the collab is going so far. Shall we press forward or call it quits? It is never too late...cause I'm evil like that =^.^=**


	3. Forget Me Not

**Forget Me Not **

**Chapter Three – Forget Me Not**

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**There is a German legend that just as God had finished naming all the plants, one was left unnamed. A tiny voice spoke out, "Forget Me Not O' Lords!" And God replied that this would be its name.**

— **Dieter F. Uchtdorf**

_**Seven years earlier…**_

"I don't have a very good feeling about this Ino," Tenten couldn't quite keep the tremor from her voice, or stop the way she still felt a little shaky.

Ino threw her hand over the brunette's shoulders, "It's that type of attitude that's going to give you away."

She opened her mouth to retort but her voice died in her throat, leaving her lips parted in a gape when she saw the granite-like expression on Ino's pretty face and watched as she indicated to the bar tender who poured shots of brandy into two glasses and slid them across the solid oak bar towards the duo.

"Sit your ass down," she instructed fiercely, tugging her down on the stool next to the one she occupied. "Or we'll not blend in," it was a warning but Ino's pouted lips sold it as a desperate plea.

"I don't know about this Ino," Tenten finally sat, running her finger back and forth through a drop of condensation that slithered from the chilled glass. "What if someone recognizes us?" she whispered, cautiously looking over her shoulders.

Ino adjusted her bosom purposefully, tossing back her flaxen mane. For a moment Tenten admired the red dress that the girl wore, the particular shade enhanced the gold of her hair and accentuated the red of her lips. She was quite a stunning picturesque, one that would make a very dramatic effect on canvas. And given that they were at an art gallery, she was certain a few people of the trade had thought the same.

The bartender that served them however clearly had other things on his mind and it had nothing to do with art. The scorching golden eyes that raked over the mane of blonde curls framing Ino's heart-shaped face, before roaming down to the pouting curves defines by the fine fabric of her dress, were in no casual way. The appraisal was so hot, Tenten was surprised that Ino's body hadn't started smoking; her face was already so flushed, she looked to have been suffering a fever.

"Don't be ridiculous Tenten, no one our age comes to these events," she swallowed, gripping her glass to stop from fanning herself with her hands.

"I do..." she reminded her companion sharply.

A calculating pair of cerulean orbs flickered over the girl's features simultaneously bringing a scowl to the wearers face, "That's because you're a forty-five year old trapped in a sixteen year old's body," Ino sighed irritably.

Brushing off the comment with good humor, Tenten asked, "Why are we here again?"

Ino took a deep breath as if to bring her annoyance under control, "I know how much you like these things…" she said tightly, the pulsating vein in her neck an indication of strain. "…So I thought that, rather than waste the tickets, I'd take you."

Tenten laughed, shaking her head. "You're so transparent."

"Shut up," the younger girl rose her glass to her lips, hoping the burning liquid would help her to regain her fraying composure. She was getting nervous and flustered for no reason.

"I think you're supposed to drink that a little slower. It's not cough syrup you know," Tenten said, gently settling back her friend's hand and glass to the counter.

"Well obviously it isn't," she rolled her eyes, her tone nursing a bite.

Tenten pulled a face and pushed the shot glass from her. Some of the liquor sloshed onto the counter. "So who's the unlucky guy that Ino Yamanaka has got her eyes on?" she asked, spinning herself around on the stool to face airy gallery. "I know you didn't come here for the art."

An incisive glance around had Tenten deducing that the floor was the perfect venue with its wide marble columns and stone-framed full-length doors. Massive potted palms reached metres skywards yet still fell away short of the high opaque ceiling that allowed the filtered starlight through. Chamber music staff a four-piece ensemble filled the room. Crispy tailored waiting staff circulated with drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

The polished floors were empty of everything except for a collection of towering modern marble sculptures in the centre and glass display cabinets built into the walls. They were beautifully craved, exquisitely and provocatively detailed. Both girls had blushed a great deal upon seeing a male and a female effigy joined at the hips, barely clothed in their clay garments. The woman's arms were wrapped around the man's shoulders, her fingernails scoring deep into his back. The man had one of her legs in his arm and well…the expression on their molded faces spoke for itself.

Tenten stifled a giggle at the memory of the thorough tour of the gallery they had taken. One particular painting stood out in her mind, it had not been as explicit as some of the previous but a trick of light on the gallery wall where it had been hung had made a shadowed-in area look like a certain part of the subject's privates.

The brunette had always had a soft spot for art and literature, both contemporary and historical, but Tenten had to admit that this was a stretch too far. When Ino had said an art exhibition, never in a million years had she expected this sort of thing. It was no wonder the blonde had dressed them both up so maturely and suggested that they took their fake ID's.

"Whoever he is, I can't imagine him being anything other than a deviant…considering he's into this type of art," she laughed.

"He's also in college—" she said it so quickly Tenten had to slow the words in her mind to be able to process them. "—and a friend of my brother's which is why I sort of need you here," guilty blue gaze dropped shyly to her stiletto adorned feet. "He'll need to be distracted…"

Her jaws dropped, angry eyes crashing into Ino like a pair of ice picks. "Have you lost your mind?" she demanded, getting up from her seat. "A college boy Ino? Are you serious?"

Her friend caught her arm, a pleading look in her eyes. "He's not much older than I am, he's only twenty-four," she winced as if the age gap had just occurred to her.

"That's nine years older than you are," Tenten said, drilling the memory. "And if you were looking for a wing girl why didn't you take Temari?"

She puffed out an ill-tempered breath and pouted childishly, "She has nothing in common with my brother, they'd probably end up fighting and—"

Tenten laughed dryly, cutting Ino off. "She actually knows the guy, which is more than I can say for myself."

"I have been nothing but nice to you since you moved here," Ino whined, trying to gain compliance.

"And on every occasion it was only because you wanted something," she reminded her before she excused herself and headed to the ladies room.

Ino had some nerve, Tenten bristled to herself. She had always suspected that there was a boy behind the Ino's sudden interest in art but this was totally unexpected. What did Ino take her for? She might be the new girl, but she wasn't desperate to make friends enough to be anybody's pushover.

As if her legs had minds of their own they halted before the painting that had held Tenten captive earlier. She saw an odd semblance of herself in the nude figure—brown eyes, chestnut curls and cupid-bow pink lips. The girl in the portrait sat cross-legged with her hands curled over her knees and her spine ramrod straight, her eyes discreetly shut as though she were meditating. However the young lass in the painting had a more superbly defined bone structure than Tenten, a heavier bust and a glowing complexion that gave rise to the image of having been recently oiled all over by a lover.

It was, in fact, a captivating painting. But the artist was obviously aiming to strike the woman as a mystical being with animalistic sexuality. It was somewhat flattering and yet, frustratingly infuriating because it was probably every girls' dream to look that way.

It certainly was hers.

Little hairs rose all over Tenten's skin, but she tried to ignore the way she immediately felt someone's presence so acutely, putting it down to the fact that she had been ogling at the inappropriate piece of art.

Guilty as charged.

With every intention of leaving, she turned to slip away, least it was someone that would recognize her—but before she realized it she'd turned towards the body behind hers. She became aware of a pregnant taut silence. Feeling oddly compelled, she looked up and came face to face, eyeball to eyeball with a boy who could very much have been transported from the cover of a glossy, teen magazine.

He had eyes that seemed to glow cobalt and silver under long lack lashes. And fair brows. High cheekbones. And a mouth that was held in a smug, smooth flat line. His shoulders were broad, blocking out what little light was in that particular corner of the gallery and he was well over six foot.

Tenten's eyes made her stop and linger, a hot feeling in her belly, the sizzling in her blood as their eyes remained locked for what seemed like days.

His cologne overlaid by the smell of alcohol was an intoxicating combination of the most virile scents.

For a fleeting moment his eyes flashed to the painting above her, she felt as if she'd been caught in the air, suspended, and now she was hurtling back to earth. It was the strangest sensation and it left her slightly freaked out.

She made to bolt, but then he spoke.

His voice was low, deep and somewhat taunting. It was directed straight at her, hitting her like a wrecking ball.

"I call this piece Tengoku."

"Heaven…" she breathed, the pink tip of her tongue arrived to nervously calm the little tremor that was happening with her lips. She shifted her stance and turned shamelessly back to the piece, mainly to avoid the teasing blue of his eyes. "You know…my name sort of means heaven," she said, making idle chatter but folded her lips when what her words could insinuate dawned on her.

She heard him chuckle, "I don't doubt that."

She flushed at the way he said it and felt his gaze running up and down the length of her back. "I was not implying that…I am—" she told him with perfect ineffectiveness, then opted to redeem herself by asking, "Did you paint this piece?"

"Who wants to know?"

She took a calming breath before she turned to look at him again, steeling herself not to snap.

"The name is Deidara," he smiled a smile that possessed a killer charm and Tenten did not like the stinging flutter she felt suddenly attack the lining of her lower stomach. "It's nice to meet you…Heaven," he held out his hand.

She looked at it and gulped, reluctantly holding out her smaller one but made no effort to correct her name. The last thing she wanted was for someone here to be able to recognize her by name after tonight. This sort of event was not the type of thing she'd feel comfortable making small talk about over soda.

Their hands met, his fingers wrapping around her hand until she couldn't see hers anymore. They rested on the frantic beating of her pulse point on the delicate underside of her wrist.

"Who's the lady in the picture?" Tenten pulled her hand away, telling herself that it wasn't tingling.

He bit the insides of his mouth thoughtfully, his expression oddly familiar. "Before, she had just been a figment of my imagination but now…" his gaze swept over her languorously. "I think I'm looking at her."

Tenten felt hopelessly flattered yet slightly flustered at the same time. It had something to do with the way that glittering ocean blue gaze was appraising her, like he was undressing her with his eyes and seeing her without a stitch of clothing on.

His head cocked on one side, he looked her up and down for again. "Would you pose for me?" he dug into his pocket and handed her a card.

Deidara Yamanaka.

Her lips parted but no sound came out, she merely gaze on the bold print, not breathing.

"I'd really like to paint you."

Her brain froze. Her heart tripped. It was shocking, and it wasn't a question. It was an imperative—a calling that set her blood racing and heart beating fast again.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably, "You want to paint me?"

He nodded firmly. "You're the physical manifestation of Heaven."

She swallowed, needing at that moment to stave off the effect of his erotic proposition. Being an art fanatic she had always dreamed of being the subject of a piece but—

"It would be in the nude of course," a smirk found its way on his daunting lips.

Tenten scrambled back to her senses, glaring at the infamous Deidara whom Ino had told her countless tales about. She never expected him to be this charming and good-looking from his sister's description. And she most definitely did not expect someone like him to be fond of art, let alone, be an aspiring artist. Ino always made him out to be some delinquent, egocentric, rebellious college brat.

But looking around at the raunchy crafts, and seeing his own masterpiece, Tenten supposed this was the rebel side of him.

"Actually, I was going to enter Heaven in Konoha's annual Art competition," he sighed expressively, tossing the gold silk of his bang out of his face. The action drew her gaze to his face. "But if you allowed me to paint you, then I would be making improvement in areas where the piece is lacking. Then I could enter you instead."

Her cheeks stung so bad she felt they had gone swollen. His words hinted something far more intimate than he must have intended and Tenten mentally face palmed herself, having allowed her mind to stray.

"Flattery gets you nowhere Deidara," she swore it wasn't a conscious decision to make his name slip from her tongue so huskily. "Besides, there are far more intriguing subjects available. You could throw a rock and hit one in this very room."

He threw his head back and laughed.

Instinctively she felt a smile tugging on her lips, his laughter was infectious. It bubbled throughout her like a jovial inferno intent on burning out every last bit of resistance. She felt like fainting.

"How about a drink by the bar?"

"I'm under aged," she told him flatly, hoping that it would discourage his pursuit so she would be free of his dark magic.

He didn't look surprised by that fact, but she saw his jaw clench slightly. "So does that means you won't be posing for me?"

She shook her head ruefully.

He seemed to be wrestling with something. He looked at her then, and the intensity in his eyes pinned her to the spot. Then he said, "A teenager without a fake ID is unheard of."

Tenten straightened herself with determination, unsure why she was reacting this way when she hadn't even known him for half an hour. Why was this happening to her?

"Even so, I don't drink," she nervously made her way pass him, her body brushing against his for an explosive second, igniting forest fires all over her flesh.

"Even so, you should give me a call," he told her with a wink.

And she did.

Two weeks later.

Those fourteen days had been absolute torture for her. No matter how much Tenten fought it, his image remained annoyingly vivid in her mind and his scent clung to her olfactory cells. She couldn't clear her head of him or his offer. Then she made the mistake of telling Ino about the encounter and had been coaxed even more into calling Deidara. Deep down she knew the younger girl was encouraging it solely because of her own motives.

But Tenten couldn't help it.

The same as how she couldn't help the look of complete shock that stiffened her face when he showed up with his great pair of shoulders inside the dark blue dinner suit he was wearing. His bright white dress shirt gave the honey-gold tones of his skin a warm, tight, healthy glow that annoyingly made the tip of her tongue grow moist.

She cast a look down at herself, simultaneously marinating in shame.

He had come for a date.

She had called him to paint her.

"This is embarrassing," she rasped, self-consciously brushing a strand of hair out of her flustered face.

He smiled that charming smile that made her stomach do acrobatics and presented her with a bunch of Forget-Me-Nots wrapped delicately in blue paper. "Here's to an unforgettable first date."

To hide her embarrassment, she blindly took the bundle from him, inhaling the non-existent scent, pretending the there was some heady fragrance bathing her senses. "You've got that right," she vaguely remembered saying before she invited him inside, clutching the lone robe she wore like her dear life depended on it.

_**The Present…**_

Deidara entered what was presumably the kitchen he had been eating breakfast in, for the last couple years of his life. Nothing was remotely familiar. It was a huge, glossy white kitchen with a wooden table standing in the middle of its white-tiled floor. It was all very new, very modern safe for the massive refrigerator covered in horribly drawn and poorly coloured pictures.

One of the fridge doors swung open but Tenten hadn't moved which meant that the little twit was helping herself to whatever it was they used to refuel themselves. As adorable as the twerp was, he could not stomach the thought of having it around. All they did was whine, make messes and nose fuck themselves—ie, pick their noses.

The living room had been even more foreign, his gaze had flickered curiously around the room made up of countrified furniture complete with chintzy soft furnishings. Its floors were littered with toys, suggesting that Harumi frequented it more than any other room.

There were picture frames all over; of himself and that haggard woman, of himself and the brats. He noted grimly that there were quite a number of himself and the little girl—silly ones, normal ones. And it was unnerving to admit to himself that, he looked rather content in all photographs, flaunting cheesy grins and lopsided smiles. But he knew of the prowess of Photoshop, so he still was not ruling out the possibility.

Though what had truly struck him was the gigantic portrait of Tenten on the wall overlooking the dining table in the kitchen. There was no denying the cursive of his signature positioned in the corner of it.

He cringed, "Did I paint that?"

Harumi's head suddenly stuck out from behind the fridge, "Dei-dei, look what I drew!" she pointed to the drawings, telling him which one of the stick figures they each were. "I gave Daisuke a big head because he thinks he's so smart," she frowned at the picture.

Tenten burst into a gaiety of laughter.

Deidara turned up his nose, refusing to comment on the child's pitiful doodles least Tenten took a swing at him. She was dangerously close, a little too close for comfort. He was catching the lavender whiff of her shampoo and noticing things about her that made him want to remove his sinful eyes.

"Yes you painted it," she finally answered. "On our first date."

He choked on his saliva, fighting the burning sensation in his face. "Some first date it must have been if you're wearing nothing but a bathrobe."

She did take that swing at him, and from that distance she wasn't going to miss. "Take your mind out of the gutter."

He scowled at her, "No offence chubs, but you couldn't get my mind in the gutter even if you were holding my face down in one."

She growled, somehow managing to keep her temper under wraps. "You were going to paint me nude," she told him, relishing the look of horror that drain every last bit of blood from his face.

He looked down at her protruding stomach, not able to shake the disturbing images of that nasty bump bare along with the rest of her body. He gulped, "I think I'll skip dinner to—" the rest of his sentence died in his throat as he caught sight of the vase of Forget-Me-Nots at the centre of the dining. "Is that a jab at my apparent amnesia?" he demanded bitterly.

Tenten followed his gaze and giggled, "Now that I think about it, it just might be."

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**A/N: I'm sorry about the delayed update. I lost my collaborator and for a while I didn't want to continue this story :( Don't worry she's not dead or anything, she's just no longer on fanfiction. But the show must go on…**

**I did a little flashback, might be adding a couple more of those to kind of show how DeiTen came into being. But I will be sticking to the present for a while, because I'm sure you wanna see how much of an epic fail of a father and husband a teenaged Deidara is =^.^=**

**I hope however that this chapter wasn't an epic fail. Please Review to keep me motivated I'm still not a 100% back on board.**


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